


6 Underground

by OutOfVein



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dark Comedy, M/M, Necrophilia, Smut, Theres no smut with dead bodies its just a thematic device!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutOfVein/pseuds/OutOfVein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hancock and Nate share a very odd moment in a room with a dead raider, uncovering the vault dweller's macabre desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	6 Underground

“On the very last bullet.” Hancock grinned, watching the raider slide down the wall, leaving a trail of blood from his head. The ghoul removed the empty magazine, tossing it aside and reached for his pocket to replace it. “Nate? Where are you?” He yelled.

“I'm here.” Nate's muffled yell came from another room.

His companion was crouched next to another dead raider, his back turned to the ghoul. “Anything good?” Hancock asked, but received no answer. He approached the man and the body, Nate had his eyes fixed on the raiders face, “Anyone you know?”

“What?” Nate glanced at Hancock like he was caught doing something. “No, it's just...” He pointed towards the body, “I actually hesitated.” Nate let out a weak chuckle, “He came running at me and I had a clear headshot, but all I could think of was damn, he is handsome.”

Hancock sneered, to say that hasn't happened to him would be a lie.

“I had to shoot him in the leg and then in the back.” Nate said, almost laughing at himself. “Look at him, he could've been a model back then.”

“A model?”

“You know, those beautiful people that get paid to have pictures taken of them.”

“Oh, yes.” Hancock nodded. He looked at the raider's face, noting his strong sculpted jaw, he could tell the man spent his time trimming his beard with expertise. Grooming was a rare thing among raiders, besides filling their faces with dirt, blood and paint. This one, however, was quite easy on the eyes.

“Natural highlights, great symmetry.” Nate babbled, leaning a bit closer, “and his body, people would spend hours in a gym just to get muscles half as defined as these.” He pointed towards the raider's shirtless torso, glimmering with it's last drops of sweat.

It was impossible for Hancock not to be a bit creeped out by Nate's peering, fingers itching his knees, repressing the need to reach out and touch. The raider's blood started pooling around, reaching Nate's shoes, but the man didn't seem to notice, or mind.

“Maybe if he was a bit less dirty...” Nate trailed off.

Hancock could've swear he was blushing. “What, Nate?” He felt compelled to ask.

“Nothing...” Nate dismissed, yet kept his hungry stare.

Hancock was worried, but at the same time he couldn't move his feet. He found himself staring at Nate the same way he stared at the raider. The ghoul wasn't oblivious to what was happening, to what his lover could possibly be thinking. He heard about these things, knew that that kind of people had a name since before the bombs, a name he couldn't quite remember, but Nate couldn't be one of them. Despite their adventures in bed, Nate was pure and uncorrupted or, being his first partner after 200 years of hibernation, Hancock liked to think that way.

Yet, a depraved, ugly part of him wished his lover would do something, so he could watch, out of morbid curiosity or freakish lust.

“Have you ever...” Nate bit his lips, he was visibly shaking, the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

“Wha-What?” Hancock stammered, wishing he could focus on something else, take his mind out of the room, anything to keep his pants from tightening. He couldn't bare being turned on by this, Hancock was the advocate for open mindness, but this was a whole other level.

His fast beating heart skipped when Nate's hand moved, lingering halfway and recoiling. The man turned his head to the ghoul's boots, waiting, wishing for an intervention, but all Hancock could do was lower his gun over his crotch.

Nate returned to the body -no, the raider. Would pretending he was sleeping be better? Definitely not, that went to realms which Hancock would rather shoot his brain off than dwell in.

Maybe if he thought of it that way, he would be able to remove himself and Nate from the situation, but he couldn't help thinking that, in the end, the man was dead and gone. Unable to feel, to be harmed.

He met a cannibal once. A man that on all accounts was as normal as anyone else, with good taste for chems and wine. It wasn't until the third mentats that the man told him, casually, that he ate human flesh. Hancock stared at him for a moment before saying “Well, I'm glad I'm a ghoul.” and they laughed like it was any other harmless joke.

The man explained he felt no guilt, he did no harm. Like Pickman, he only preyed on those that preyed on others, those that the world was better off without.

“They are dead.” He said, “If the dogs won't get them, the worms will.”

By the end of the conversation, Hancock had a totally different point of view.

Was the situation any different now? The raider was going to rot and, from where they were standing, no hounds or worms would be fed. Might as well be put to good use.

His thoughts were interrupted when, like jumping from a daring cliff, Nate's hand jolted to the man's pants, but froze when fingers pulled the edges down a bit, showing the pubic hair. Nate shivered like he was dying of cold, knuckles turned white holding the fabric.

With another sudden move, he pulled it down to the knees. The raider was laid bare for them to see. Their eyes lingered at the soft member, Nate's hands not too far away. There was a bizarre allure to it, not the raider himself, but Nate his lover, consumed by macabre desire.

Hancock heard him swallow a sob. The ghoul opened his mouth to put a stop to all of this for both their sakes, but the words choked him. He felt his own length twitch when Nate touched the raider's tanned tights for a split second before removing them like they were live wire. He stumbled back, falling on his butt and let out a loud sigh, head hanging with shame.

Hancock slouched, stepping away from the corpse.

“I...” Nate groaned, gazing back at the body with glassy eyes. “What the hell...”

“A lapse of conscience for the two of us.” Hancock tried to sound sympathetic, “My lips are sealed.”

Nate looked at him with wide, grateful eyes and nodded. The ghoul extended a hand, which he accepted.

“Let's go home.”

 

                                                                                                                        …

 

Hancock could have mostly anyone on Goodneighbor, men or women, ghoul or smooth-skin, all on their knees before him. He didn't care if they did it for genuine desire or just to score some chems, sometimes it felt good to be pampered.

Ever since he and Nate found themselves in a relationship, the ghoul was set to end his wild days in bed and settle for the gorgeous man he was head over heels in love with. It came as a surprise that Nate was more than willing to play along and join the party, Hancock was ecstatic. Whether on the road or in Goodneighbor, they kept themselves active.

Fahrenheit and her team had just busted a rival drug cartel that sold cheap shit-tier chems on their territory. The squad returned unharmed and that was cause for celebration. “Free drinks and discounted chems at the Third Rail tonight!” He announced from his balcony to the delight of his citizens. He loved that damn job.

The bar was packed when he and Nate arrived fashionably late. After a heartfelt speech dedicated to his right arm and best fucking friend forever, Fahrenheit, he raised a toast and officially started the party.

He cruised through the people, firmed citizens, astray drifters all lined up to get high. His eyes stopped on a girl all by herself, looking out of place on a unlit corner, watching the party unfold with wide eyes. New in town, shy and definitely crashing out of a high.

He introduced himself, all nonchalant, leaning on the wall beside her. Behind the crowd, Nate watched his lover woo the girl within minutes and then slipped into the conversation like he was there all along, doing what he did best, little jokes to make her giggle and ease her in the very obvious situation.

The shy girl turned wild once they were in the privacy of Hancock's manor. Throwing herself between the two before she was even given anything. One hit of jet got her in a laughing fit, falling on their laps, taking their hands and demanding to be touched.

Nate was clearly uncomfortable through the whole ordeal. The man enjoyed spoiling Hancock, to give his undivided attention, anyone else was just a prop, but this girl, she wanted to be in the middle, wanted the spotlight. She pulled the man towards her, tickled him, grabbed his chest hair, all the checklist Hancock learned not to do to Nate, she did.

It took the ghoul's hand's constant care to keep him hard, but when the girl straddled him and yelled “daddy!” that's when Nate pushed her aside and got out of bed in desperate need of a hit of jet. She burst out laughing, unaware, high off her mind.

Something about her spirit made Hancock smile, he felt like it was his duty to give her the best orgasm she ever had. The loud, long moans were products of repressed desires finally coming into fruition. Bouncing on his cock like there was no tomorrow, she screamed his name, a melody to his sick, needy pride.

They didn't stop til' late in the night, when the girl crashed on bed, asleep in an instance, leaving Hancock spent, Nate spaced out with jet. She was sprawled, legs and arms thrown wide open, leaving little space for the men to huddle. They settled on a small empty spot by the edge.

Hancock was the first to wake up, finding himself falling from the bed, he clung to Nate, waking him up in the process.

“Well hi there.” Nate whispered, pulling the ghoul up without effort. With their legs entwined, Hancock instinctively rutted his morning wood against the man's leg. Nate chuckled, doing the same with his own length.

“Think we can do it without waking her up?” Nate challenged, Hancock kissed his neck in response.

“The one that wakes her up gets to wash the sheets.”

“Oh, you're on.” Nate smirked, a finger brushing the ghoul's entrance. Hancock bit his neck to silence a moan. “Biting is not fair.” Nate growled with barred teeth.

Neither dared to do anything besides kissing and grinding, coming in less than ten minutes, giggling like two sneaky drunks.

The room was dark save from a few holes of light from the boarded windows. They looked at the still girl's silhouette in the same position she fell in.

“Wake up, sunshine.” Hancock teased, a hand reached out to grope her breasts, circling her nipples. He smirked at Nate and crawled down between the girl's tight. A finger lightly brushed her folds, yet earned no response.

“Damn, she is really knocked out.” Nate smirked, turning around to grab a pack of smokes.

The ghoul moved up, kissing the girl's body as he went along.

“Sweetheaaaart.” He sang.

His heart stopped and sank when his eyes focused on the girl's face, her mouth was open, dried drool around her swollen lips and foam pooled down her throat.

“Shit!” He yelled, pouncing away from the bed like a startled cat.

Nate choked on the cigarette smoke and rolled out of bed, a loud thump reverberated in the room. Hancock crawled to the side table and turned the lantern on. With a clearer view, he looked at the poor girl, her eyes half open and fully white. He closed them.

“Oh, no...” Nate mumbled between smaller coughs.

They stood beside her, watching her lifeless body so still and silent.

“Did – Did that ever happen before?” Nate stuttered to ask.

Hancock shook his head.

“What – What do we do?”

Hancock didn't answer, he knew what to do, but to say it out loud felt too real. He glanced at Nate, his eyes cast down, a expression hard to read. He thought of their previous situation with the dead raider and how they never talked about it again.

Hancock had touched her, felt her, and it aroused him just like any other living being would.

She looked beautiful, in an innocent way he didn't quite notice before, when all he was thinking was what he and Nate would do to her.

He rubbed the pain on the back of his neck from sleeping in a bad position.

“John...” Nate looked at him full of confusion. He was thinking about it too.

They stared at each other for a long while.

They met the girl, they talked to her, heard her laughter, slept with her - Hancock's cum was inside her – she had a history and a name, things she might had told them, but he couldn't remember, he wasn't paying attention.

This wasn't what she wanted, not only death, but her final moments as well. People that ended up in Goodneighbor didn't go there with a clear mind and a good outlook in life, they were castaways, holding onto drugs and vices, waiting for someone to save them. Even their captain wanted a lifeboat. Nate was his lifeboat, but he dragged the man down with him.

He wondered if she was a virgin, she didn't talk or laughed like one, but she moved and felt as tight as one.

She was a confused darling. Nick Valentine could be showing up in a few days looking for her at the request of her family.

“I can't.”

“No.”

They said in unison and began to fold the bedsheets over her.

 

                                                                                                                     ...

 

Daylight was coming to an end as they walked back to Goodneighbor after helping another settlement fight off super mutants. Nate boasted his killings. He and Hancock played a game, the one that killed the most issued a sexual challenge, and this time the ghoul would only be able to climax by being fingered and Nate had plans of torturing him all night long.

“What the hell is that?” Nate pointed to a narrow alley across the street.

Hancock followed him towards the odd sighting. They slowed down as they got closer, jaws dropped, cheeks flustering. Two dead raiders, naked, piled against one another, crotch to face.

“Pickman.” Nate pointed at a calling card fixed under a rock, naming it's display, “Ouroboros by Pickman” It read. Nate's laugher was sinister.

Neither were able to take their eyes away from it. The raiders were propped with rocks and pieces of wood so they wouldn't look like rag-dolls... or dead people.

Nate crouched, taking a deeper look on the small distance between bodies, a thin, clean slice on each throat. “He knows his craft, I'll give him that.”

They stood next to each other. Hancock noticed the bulge in Nate's pants grow, his eyes unabashedly appreciating Pickman's work. Nate's arousal aroused him.

“Do you think he...” Hancock trailed off, his hands gestured to the bodies, trying to explain what his voice couldn't.

“Maybe.” Nate mumbled, “Maybe he just likes to look.” Nate came out almost sympathetic. “We used to have magazines with pictures of people like this.” He let out a weak, embarrassed chuckle, “But they were alive, of course...”

Nate's trembling hand slowly made way to his crotch, Hancock watched it like a hawk and found his lover looking at him, panting, asking not for intervention, but for consent. All the ghoul could do was lick his lips.

Nate's sun-kissed hand stroke his stiff bulge, before slipping inside the pants. The ghoul found his own doing the same. He looked at Nate, while Nate looked at the displayed men. His eyes were full of excitement and fear, his face contorted, reddened by shame and ecstasy, imagining beyond what the display showed. Nate let his inhibitions fade away and moved faster, his free hand ran under his shirt, he growled with hunger, restless legs quivering at the point of giving up.

They touched themselves in eerie silence for a place like downtown. Hancock wondered if Pickman might had been watching them, the thought churned his stomach and almost got him soft, but Nate's shy cry, full of guilt and lust drove him over the edge.

His lover freed his cock and spilled on the pavement, a large amount splashed on the raiders. Hancock did the same, but pointed away from the men and wiped his hand on his pants.

Nate crossed his arm and hunched his back, turning away from the display and the ghoul. “Nate” Hancock reached out, Nate flinched away. “Hey, hey. It's okay...”

He hesitated to hug, but opened his arms as an invitation that Nate accepted, hiding his burning cheeks on the crook of the ghoul's neck. Hancock patted his back, whispering accepting, comforting words until the shivering diminished.

A loud buzz broke their hug. A vertibird flew above them as gunfire echoed. Hancock took his lover's hand and they ran away.

 

                                                                                                                  …

 

Third Rail's VIP room was their first stop, Nate always mentioned how it always felt detached from the real world, they sat down in the corner with a bottle of vodka, shot glasses and inhalers of jet. Nate haven't muttered a word since then and this was the best and only way of consolation that Hancock knew.

He raised an inhaler over his lover's mouth and Nate welcomed it like a kiss, he looked so serene laying back on the couch, lit by the faint red lights, with his eyes fluttering and the corner of his lips curved to a smile. The ghoul finally knew what he meant by ethereal.

Hancock wanted him to know he would always be there for him, that the man was his whole world and he wouldn't let a harmless craving ruin things between them.

Yet, it took half the bottle and a glass of whiskey for the man to start talking.

“You don't think I'm disgusting?” He clenched his drink.

“No, babe.” Hancock wrapped his arm around his lover, caressing his shoulder.

Nate sobbed at his kindness, “When we were in bed with that girl, when she was still alive, all I could think of was what I would do with her dead body...” He chugged what was left on his glass and cringed.

“But you had the chance and you didn't.” The ghoul reached out to wipe a tear away, “I think awful stuff too sometimes.”

“I don't know if I would've stopped myself if you weren't there.”

“You would.” He held Nate's chin so he would face him, “I know you would. She was different from those raiders.”

“How so?”

“We knew her, not just her body.”

“Does that mean I'm free to go fucking all the bodies out there that I didn't know?”

Hancock fell out of words, he didn't want to say yes, but he had no arguments to say no either.

“You know what I mean. Maybe be like Pickman and just look at them.”

“Fantastic...”

Nate poured himself a shot. Hancock could tell he was filled with shame and disgust of his own self, after all the ghoul was an expert on self-hatred.

“Let's go to bed,” He purred on Nate's neck, taking his hand to kiss. “I want those fingers inside me.”

“I changed my mind.” Nate blurted, pulling his hand away.

“About what?”

“The challenge...” He looked down his fists, holding his breath, mustering all courage. The ghoul laid his forehead against his cheek. “I want to touch you, but you can't move.”

Hancock didn't need more details to get where this was going.

“Okay.” He said without a moment of hesitation.

 

                                                                                                                     …

 

All Hancock could do was feel. He struggled to keep his eyes closed and still as possible as Nate undressed him slowly. He trusted his lover more than anyone else, yet the tingling fear of not seeing or moving, the inability to reciprocate, all overwhelmed him with anxiety.

He had taken a hit of med-x before to help his stillness, he was limp before Nate's so delicate touch removed his clothes piece by piece, Hancock could hear him folding them aside neatly. The human's smooth hands ran all over his body with curiosity. His finger lightly outlining the ghoul's soft member, with the chem it would take a while for it to harden. Nate kissed it, tickling his lover, before opening Hancock's limp legs, hands kept exploring his crotch.

Hancock wondered if that's what went through Nate's mind when he undressed the raider. He needed to have a long, sober conversation with his lover after this, not to shame him, but to understand him. Hancock needed to know what caused this, was it always in the back of his head? That raider had something special? Was it just a fleeting curiosity?

He wasn't afraid of losing him to this new found desire, he loved Nate so intensely, the simple sight of him being aroused by something was already enough to Hancock, hence why he came watching Nate masturbate to Pickman's “art”. His lover was so conflicted and ashamed, but at the same time in complete bliss, the ghoul had never seen such ardent pleasuring before.

Nate could fuck a corpse in front of him, Hancock would watch and jerk off to it if his lover was enjoying himself. That's how madly in love he was.

“It's not the same.” Nate's voice snapped him off his trance. Had he fallen asleep?

“What?”

“It's just not the same, knowing you're alive.” Nate's eyes widened at his own words, a hand covered his mouth, “I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!” He cried, and jumped off the bed, running towards the open window, gasping for air.

Hancock felt pity, not anger, not disappointment, just pity. He gave the man some space, but didn't walk away, just sat in bed, waiting.

“What I meant to say is...” Nate walked back, tears streaming down his eyes, “You're alive. I want you to want me, I want you to touch me, I want to hear you moan and make you cum.”

He babbled, not aware of Hancock embracing him.

“I'm sorry I made you do this.” He cried, arms hanging on his side.

Hancock shushed him with a kiss, “I love you so fucking much.” The ghoul licked his lover's salty skin. “I'm still up for that other challenge.”

Nate chuckled, Hancock smiled at his adorable wrinkly eyes.

“I will drive you mad.” Nate warned, his hands groping the ghoul's ass.

“You already do, my love.”

 

                                                                                                                 …

 

Hancock smoked his last cigarette, sitting naked by the window sill, watching his town waking up. His bottom still sore from all the kneading and probing and slapping, Nate was so cruel to him, keeping him hard for hours, he loved it.

His beloved slept soundly, his muscular, broad torso exposed, the up and down of his chest felt therapeutic to the ghoul, but, after all that happened, he couldn't help but wonder what he would do if he came across that body, that face, dead and without knowing who he was. Would he go as far as touching him? Run his fingers across the chest hair like he did every night? Would he just jerk off on top of him?

“Hungry?” Nate's voice brought him back, Hancock found himself right above his lover, his cock fully stiff, an answer to his questions. A hand reached out to grab and pump him. “What were you thinking about?”

Hancock moaned to avoid answering.

“Imagining what you would do if I was dead?”

He felt the grip squeeze him, holding him still when he flinched. He growled at the delicious pain. “Would you put it on me?”

His mind didn't wander that far, but now he couldn't not think about it.

“You never do it when I'm alive, would you take the chance?”

Hancock couldn't give him a honest answer with Nate's expert hand and coarse voice taunting him like that. Still, he came on his lover's torso, Nate chuckled, using it as a lube to touch himself under the sheets.

“I'll get some radaway.” The ghoul joked to relieve the tension, but didn't leave the room until Nate was came.

When he returned, Nate sat under the window in all his bare glory, no matter how many times he had seen him naked, Hancock always lost his breath. He helped his smooth skinned friend rid of the radiation and sat next to him, enjoying the cool breeze, listening to the thunders that announced the rain.

“I don't know if I would fuck your corpse,” Hancock confessed, “But I would jerk off to it if I didn't know who you were.”

“I would fuck your corpse.” Nate didn't look at him, “If I didn't know who you were.”

“That's actually a nice compliment.” Hancock joked.

“It should be, I guess... To be desired so much that even lifeless...” He trailed off, “Or maybe that's kinda creepy, I don't know.” He stood up, leaning against the window sill. Someone wolf-whistled him and he waved with a fleeting smile. “I don't know how I should feel about myself...”

“Nate, brother, I hate to see you this way.” He leaned on the man's legs, caressing them.

“I'm sorry.” He sighed.

“No. Next handsome raider we kill, we will go as far as you want.” The ghoul sat on the window.

“I don't know if I can do it, even if I want to.”

“Well, there's only one way to find out.” He leaned closer and grabbed Nate's nape, their foreheads touched. “I fucking love you, and I won't judge you.” He stated, staring deeply into his lover's green eyes, “All I ask is that you wash yourself before doing me.”

“Oh, gross.” Nate cringed and moved away, “Yeah, I think you just killed it.” He let out a weak laugh and slouched on the bed.

“See, there you go. There are always the little details you don't think of when you're horny.” He laughed, leaning out of the window to feel the first drops of rain on his body.

“Yeah.” He groaned, “The thought of having to clean the bodies before doing it is already enough to get me soft. I'll stick to just touching myself then.”

Hancock laughed. What a weird, immoral thing to laugh at.

“John.” Nate looked at him with the helpless look of a lost child, “If I ever lose control, stop me. I don't think I can ever live with it after.”

The ghoul's smile turned to a frown, sometimes he would get so concerned with the moment, the pleasure, that he never stopped to think of how it all weighted on Nate's shoulders, with his pre-war morals even stricter than today's. How shame and guilt could outlive the most pleasant orgasm.

“I won't, I promise you.” He walked over and sat on the edge, stroking Nate's knee.

“Let's keep fucking with the living, right?”

“I hear you.” He chuckled, raising a hand to a toast.

“So...”

“Yeah?” He looked back.

Nate stared at him with a sly smirk, his eyes motioned to his crotch, “Get to it.”

Oh, how Hancock loved this man.

 

 


End file.
